But, whatever might have been the proper finish of that sentence, it was never uttered; for, bustling forward with an easy elastic step, the pleasant countenance suddenly became grave as opening the door of his inner office Tom Brough stood face to face with pale, stern-looking Frank Marr.
Story 5--Chapter IV.
Hopeless.
If there is anything obstinate in this life it is Time, whom poets and painters are so fond of depicting as a goose-winged, forelocked, bald-headed, scraggy old gentleman, exceedingly hard up for clothes, but bearing an old, overgrown egg-boiler, and a scythe with a shaft that, however well adapted for mowing in his own particular fields, would, for want of proper bend and handles, if he were set to cut grass in some Essex or Sussex mead, make that old back of his double down in a grander curve than ever, and give him such a fit of lumbago as was never suffered by any stalk of the human corn he delights to level. Just want the hours, weeks, and months to seem extended, and they shrink like fourteen-shilling trouser legs. Just want the days to glide by so that some blissful moment may be swift to arrive, and one might almost swear that the ancient hay-maker had been putting his lips to some barrel, and was lying down behind a hedge for a long nap. He had been busy enough though at Walbrook, as many a defaulting bill acceptor knew to his cost, and small mercy was meted to him by John Richards. The time, too, with May seemed to speed by, as evening after evening it brought her December, in the shape of Tom Brough—always pleasant, cheerful, and apparently happy, if he gained one sad pleasant smile.
For there was a sadness in May Richards’ face that was even at times painful; but she seemed to bear her cares patiently. Only once had she sought to talk to her father, to find him even gentle.
“You had better throw it all aside,” he said. “Take my advice, child, you will find it better.”
“But I must see those papers, father,” she said hoarsely.
She had followed the old man into his office, and stood facing him as he laid one hand upon his great iron safe.
He did not seem to heed her for a few minutes; but at last he spoke.